


Doubletop Peak

by ienablu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spnspringfling, Gen, Non-Permanent Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, and a quiet sunset in heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doubletop Peak

**Author's Note:**

> For emmram, for spnspringfling, originally posted at [LJ](http://spnspringfling.livejournal.com/8984.html).

The sunset is nothing like what Sam would have imagined. There's no rich streaks of color, no bright bursts of orange, no raw scrapes of red, no brilliant purples, no colors so vibrant that they would hardly seem possible.

Instead, the sky is a light blue, almost cold looking. The clouds are thin and wispy, bruised purple-grays, moving lazily throughout the sky. The blue is deeper behind them, and there's a golden haze at the horizon in front of them, the sun barely visible above a line of trees.

And it's faintly familiar, like a school field trip to a botanical garden a long time ago.

"Stop it."

Sam glances to his side. Dean is sitting on the hood of the Impala, feet resting on the bumper, unconsciously mirroring Sam's own pose.

"What?" Sam asks finally, when it becomes apparent Dean isn't going to elaborate.

Dean glances at him. "You're thinking too loud. Stop it," he says, much slower, tone indulgent.

Without thinking, Sam shoots back, "So what, you're psychic now?"

The air becomes thick with too recent memories, nightmares and visions, but it soon passes in the faint breeze. 

Dean rolls his eyes, and hands Sam one of the beers. "Shut up and drink."

Sam flips his collar up against the breeze before taking the bottle. The sun has sunk behind the trees, and it's starting to get a bit cool. "Can you even get drunk in Heaven?"

"Here's hoping," Dean replies, smiling, before taking a long swig of his beer.

"Are we going to be hungover when we wake up?"

He shrugs. "We'll worry about that later."

Because there will be a later. There's no doubt in Sam's mind, just as he's sure there's no doubt in Dean's mind. Castiel had popped back to Earth to inform them that the situation in Heaven was getting a bit hectic (and Dean's snort of _again?_ had summed up things pretty aptly, in Sam's mind), and he needed their help.

There had been arguing, mostly about whether or not to tell Bobby that they were going to die temporarily, but Cas had said they had wasted enough time already. So he had killed them both swiftly and painlessly, only to find out that the problem had been solved in his absence. And that Sam and Dean's deaths had only caused another problem with a few annoyed reapers and an even more annoyed Fate. He had hurried to deal with it, leaving Sam and Dean on the axis mundi, in a memory Sam can't quite place.

Sam slowly nurses his beer, then shifts, moving back to lay down against the windshield.

"If you break it, I'm going to kill you," Dean tells him.

"Does it matter? It's not the real Impala," Sam says.

Dean shoots him a look that's hurt and betrayed and more serious than not. "Break the windshield and I'll kill you."

"Noted," Sam says, not bothering to point out that death isn't much of a threat anymore.

Instead, he looks back up at the sky. The color is fading now, the icy blue only existing furthest towards the horizon. Above the sky is now a cooler, more faded blue, blurred by the clouds that are clumping together. In the fading light, the trees are getting darker and darker, and the scene gets more and more familiar.

Sam flicks through his memories, trying to remember a matching sunset. It looks similar to one time when they were passing through Arkansas, their dad on the trail of a demon terrorizing rural towns when the Impala had broken down. Sam was about to start middle school, and while John swore and worked on the car, Dean had told Sam about how awesome sixth grade was going to be. Or it could be that time in Wyoming, towards the end of eighth grade. They were investigating a haunted campground in the Rocky Mountains, and Sam spent the entire time pretending it was a normal family hunting trip; while John had ignored it, Dean had played along. Or it could even be one of Dean's memories. 

"You're doing it again."

Sam is tempted to ask Dean if the sunset looks familiar, and the question is on the tip of his tongue. 

But as he looks at Dean, he realizes it doesn't matter. Whether it's Sam's memory or Dean's memory, Arkansas or Wyoming, if it's on the road it's a happy memory, and even if it wasn't then, Dean's smiling faintly, so it is now.

Sam nurses the rest of his drink, and takes another when Dean offers it. It's one of the rare times Dean is starting a new beer at the same time as Sam, so he gladly clinks his bottle against Dean's.

And then he leans back, and watches the rest of the sunset.


End file.
